I'm disclaiming it. All of it. None of it belongs to me. I'm sorry, it just looked so fun to play with *tears of shame* but seriously, all of it belongs to the Tolkien family.

Three chapters in three days! I am doing well! Or maybe its my desperate desire to not disappoint you two lovely people who keep reviewing me. You're the best. You can have my left over birthday cake. It's not stale, I had some for dinner about 10 minutes ago. But I digress. Story time!

A Tale of Dragonfire

The hobbit hole is warm and smells pleasant. And, although of course she isn't (and she is all too aware that this marvellous little house makes her own look shabby and poorly maintained by comparison), in the low light of the dining room our little Hunter might be almost convinced that she were home at her own table listening to her friends laugh at each other's overly embellished tales.

Instead, Kali sits in silence while the dwarves around her argue (thirteen angry voices all competing to be heard, what noise they make!). She had noticed a while ago that the hobbit, Mr Baggins, who is as much the reason for their rowing as she, hovers on the edge of the group, as out of place and mute as herself and tried a few times already to catch his eye and smile as a sign of camaraderie, but his attention is absorbed by the great wizard who, without justification in the eyes of the halfling, argues their case.

Eventually, so sick of speaking and not being heard, the wizard rises from his chair, his shadow growing huge and formidable behind him "Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar then a burglar he is! As for the girl, Thorin Oakenshield, do not be so arrogant as to presume that you will not need a hunter by journey's end!"

He sits again, shadow sinking back to a more usual length, confident that he now has the attention of all. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose, and while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of Dwarf, the scent of a hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives as a distinct advantage." With that said he gestures to Kali, who up until now had been largely ignored, other than when they protest that she could not possibly be of any help "And you all know, or at least can guess, as well as I that past the edge of the Wild towns, and people at all for that matter, are few and far between. How do you intend to feed a dozen dwarves - more than a few of whom have appetites insatiable by even the best stocked pantry in all Hobbiton - on just the rations you can carry with you?" A few dwarves, mostly Bombur with his vast belly, looked slightly insulted, but for once none decided to interrupt the wizard.

"You asked me to find the the final members of this company, and I've chosen mister Baggins and lady Kalliste." (Kali frowns at the use of her full name, remembering that she had already once corrected the wizard) "There's a lot more to both of them than appearances suggest, and they've got a great deal more to offer than any of you know. Including themselves. You must trust me on this"

Thorin's eyes pass from the hobbit to the dwarf girl. The expression on his face is not best pleased, but even the most stubborn of men, and kings for that matter, should know well not to seek the council of wizards and then swiftly ignore it. "Very well, we shall do this your way" he turns to Balin while the halfling still weakly protests "give them the contracts"

As Mr Baggins reads out loud the contract, which Kali has only skimmed over briefly, she stares a Gandalf, trying to make eye contact with that elusive wizard. But he avoids her gaze, probably knowing full well that she is just as pleased with the situation at hand as Thorin. Still attempting to attract the wizard's attention, she is vaguely aware of a conversation going on around her, and though she doesn't know what was said she sees the hobbit faint.

Gandalf lifts the little hobbit as though he weighed nothing and carries him through to the well kept living room, setting him down on a grand armchair by the fire. Most of the dwarves follow behind him, relatively subdued for once but still chattering and laughing amongst themselves, all apparently very proud of Bofur for his efforts to upset the poor little man. Kali finds herself alone, wondering if perhaps the others left a bite to eat anywhere in the building as she has left all her food tied to the pony outside and her stomach is beginning to growl.

Except, she notices after a while, she is not alone. Two dwarves remain in the room, one blonde head and one dark head bowed together as they whisper in Khuzdul. Presently the blonde head rises to meet her gaze and his piercing blue eyes inspect her with - what appears to her to be - great seriousness. He mutters again to his dark haired companion who shakes his head and answers, and while she cannot hear his words they are said with anger in his tone.

Kali feels something almost like anger bubbling up inside of her stomach also, sick and tired as she is of dwarves and men sizing her up, judging her worth before they even bother to ask her name. Her face becomes hot and flushed with a mixture of shame and rage.

She is trying to gather up her pride and deny her tongue the urge to say something witty and cutting (and well she does, as in her current state she can't think of anything good to say) when the dark head lifts also and the handsome young owner smiles and gestures her closer. Cautiously, like a nervous new hunter approaching a wild boar he suspects may just be faking death that could rise and charge at any moment, she draws nearer. Once she is close enough the two stand to greet her.

"Kili" the younger, darker says, seeming unable to contain his excitement.

"Fili" adds the blonde, "at your service" they chime in unison, bowing as one. Kali can't help but laugh, Kili is beaming and it is obvious that Fili only does this for his younger brother's (she guesses) benefit.

"Kali, Daughter of Tharye at yours" she answers, mirroring their bow.

"You use a bow" Kili exclaims with joy. Kali had seen a bow with the rest of the weapons belonging to the dwarves and understands now why the dark haired youngster is so excited. Archers are rare amongst dwarves, and those lacking in a beard rarer still. Kili must have felt that he had found a kindred spirit. "May I see it?" Like most, she was not entirely pleased with the idea of someone else touching her weapons, but the look of pleasure on his face is difficult to refuse.

"Of course" trying to act as though she doesn't mind at all she gestures to where it has been left, slung over the back of the chair on which she sat. "Please be careful!" Kili is pulling arrows from her quiver and passionately pointing out their similarities and differences with his own, though in truth there is little comparison to be made as his were forged recently by skilled smiths and hers are old, recovered from her prey and used many times, with new shafts hand whittled by her as and when they needed replacing. The heads of them are quite magnificent, however, hard steel with evil looking barbs designed to do as much damage coming out as going in. At one point, however many years ago, they must have cost someone a pretty penny.

"I apologise for offending you" Kali turns, so concerned was she with the other's heavy handed treatment of her prized possessions that she had quite forgotten about Fili.

"To what do you refer, friend?" She answers, keeping her tone light but narrowing her eyes. She had not heard a slight from him, but if he felt the need to apologise then something must have been said.

"I made a comment to my brother and saw your reaction" he looks sufficiently ashamed of himself "I called bows the weapon of choice for elves and cowards" (she realises now that thag comment must have beem what irritated his brother before they had invited her closer)

Kali opens her mouth and closes it again. She cannot think of anything to say in defence of her chosen weaponry, but luckily is distracted from having to wrack her mind for an answer by Kili, who has taken her bow and stares at it with a mixture of desire and awe.

The only item of true beauty she owns, it stands nearly as tall as her and the supple, pale yew has been sanded and oiled until it gleams, shining nearly as bright as the silver caps (newly polished, normally she leaves them tarnished so their glint would not be spotted by the sharp eyes of her prey) which hold the silken bowstring in place. The bleached white leather grip is worn but well maintain, and Kali has taken care to re-stain the swirls of blue, painted on the leather by some unknown brush generations ago, every time they become worn away by her hands. So smoothly the bow finds its perfect place in her palms, so easily it finds it target, after nearly sixty years of use Kali had begun to think of it as an extension of her arm.

"How did you come by this?" He asks, voice full of wonder.

"Couldn't say, friend. I believe it was a gift from my father, though I cannot remember a time that I did not have it" she grins at him, it was rare that anything she owned inspired such reverence in people "it's a good thing I never grew particularly tall, is it not?" The longbow, which for her was the perfect height, does not even reach Kili's shoulder and she can see the disappointment in his eyes that he would never get a chance to shoot with it.

From the living room and down the hallway the sound of humming rolls, like a deep, warm wave. Kali feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up and Kili, as if in a trance, presses her bow into her hands before following Fili towards the music.

She arrives shortly after the brothers, in time to hear Thorin's deep voice begin to voice a tune that feels so eerily familiar to her, like looking into the face of an old friend after many years. As the others join the chorus she is surprised hear her own voice accompany them, for she knows this song. The song that makes her long for the cold stone and deep passages of Erebor, a home she had never known.

The pines were roaring on the height

the winds were moaning in the night

the fire was red

it flaming spread

the trees like torches blazed with light